


Til I Hear It from You

by bearfeathers



Category: Men in Black (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Capsicoul - Freeform, Capsicoul Day, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 23:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearfeathers/pseuds/bearfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Still, he can’t help the creeping feeling of embarrassment when he considers the fact that they’ve slept together—and live together—and he still has no clue when Phil’s birthday is. Although, he supposes if it’s any consolation… neither does anyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Til I Hear It from You

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, I'm way late and this isn't even that good. Sorry guys. orz

It feels a bit strange to ask.

Steve and Phil have been in a relationship for some months—long enough to have gone from dates to sex to leaving a toothbrush at each other’s places to leaving clothing behind to more recently moving in together—and still this is a mystery to him. Of course, many things about Phil are still a mystery to him, as well as vice versa, and he rather likes it that way. Knowing everything there is to know about a romantic partner can be dull, whereas finding out something new about them every day is quite the opposite.

Still, he can’t help the creeping feeling of embarrassment when he considers the fact that they’ve slept together—and _live_ together—and he still has no clue when Phil’s birthday is. Although, he supposes if it’s any consolation… neither does anyone else.

* * *

“Hey, Phil?”

The agent hums in response, letting Steve know he’s listening, despite the fact that he hasn’t looked up from the files spread out before him on the coffee table.  Steve leans against the counter in Phil’s apartment, stirring creamer into both their coffees.

“When’s your birthday, anyway?” Steve asks, trying to sound casual. “I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned it.”

“And it wasn’t on my file, was it?” Phil asks.

The agent’s tone is playful, his lips quirked in the barest of smiles. Right then and there, Steve knows this isn’t information that’s going to be forfeited so readily. But if Phil wants to play, Steve will play. He approaches the sofa and eases into the space next to the shorter man, setting down the two mugs of coffee he’d carried with him—on the coasters; Phil’s very particular about that.

“No, it wasn’t,” Steve answers, his eyes returning to the map he’d been studying before he’d risen for a coffee break. “Any reason in particular as to why that is?”

Phil shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t want people to know about it.”

Steve considers that answer. Well, alright, if that’s how he’s going to play it… Steve leans into Phil, one arm stealing behind the agent to curl around his waist, while his other hand rests on the agent’s thigh. He dips his head to press a trail of kisses up the other man’s neck and along his jawline.

“And that includes me?” Steve murmurs against his skin.

“That includes you,” Phil affirms, outwardly showing no signs of being affected by Steve’s actions.

The soldier shifts his hand, dragging it slowly up along Phil’s inner thigh.

“You’re sure?” he says, nuzzling until he gets the other man to turn to him for a kiss.

“We’re supposed to be working,” Phil breathes against his lips.

Steve grins at that and kisses him, slow and wet and sincere. “We can go back to working if you’ll just tell me.”

Phil makes a noise, something between a growl and a purr, like he can’t quite make up his mind. He gives in to the soldier’s advances, his attention shifting from work to Steve. It’s only after Steve has put his mouth—and the fact that the apartment beneath them is vacant—to good use that he tries asking again. His chin rests on the agent’s knee as he rubs his hand up and down the length of the man’s thigh, watching him get his breath back.

“You know how you wanted to know when my birthday is?” Phil asks, his head tilted back against the sofa as he runs his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“Mmhmm,” Steve hums, inwardly congratulating himself on the success of his plan. His eyes fall shut as he leans into the shorter man’s touch.

“I’m still not telling you.”

Steve’s eyes fly open at that, his hand stilling on his partner’s thigh. After a moment’s pause, he nips at the agent’s inner thigh, hard enough to make him jump. Phil looks down to meet his gaze, eyebrows raised.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Steve says.

Phil smiles at that, leaning forward. Steve meets him halfway, readily accepting the kiss Phil offers.

“Yes, I am,” Phil agrees.

* * *

“Tony? Can I have a word?” Steve asks after JARVIS allows him into the lab.

“What? Yeah, sure, Spangles, pull up a seat,” Tony replies, waving in an offhand manner as he tinkers with something that looks like the gauntlet to a new suit. “How’re things at the Love Shack?”

“I wish you’d stop calling it that,” Steve says, shaking his head as he takes a seat on a stool, patting DUMMY as the robot whistles at him affectionately.

“No, no, no, I _earned_ the right to call it that. Not only did Phil reject my generous offer to give him his own floor in the Tower, but then _you_ went and ditched us to live in his lame apartment instead,” Tony says, shooting him a look over the gauntlet.

“You’re not still sore about that, are you?” Steve asks with a laugh.

“Oh, right, haha, laugh it up Captain Asshole,” Tony snorts. “A guy tries to do something nice and look how he’s repaid. With _treachery_.”

“Tony… my question?” Steve prompts, one eyebrow raised.

Tony squints before nodding in understanding, dropping his theatric behavior. “Right, right, you had a question. So what is it?”

“This is a little embarrassing, but I wasn’t really sure who else to ask,” Steve begins, rubbing the back of his neck.

Tony gives him a sympathetic look. “It happens to every guy once in a while, Cap. No need to worry. If you’re having trouble getting it up, maybe you should try some roleplaying or toys. Although with that super soldier stamina, I have to say I’m kind of surpri—“

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve grates, cutting the genius off before he can say anything else. “That’s not an issue.”

“Oh,” Tony remarks, as though he’d been convinced it was. “Well, then… what’s up?”

Steve sighs. “Do you know when Phil’s birthday is?”

Tony snorts, smirking, and opens his mouth to deliver what Steve’s sure is a Tony Stark Grade scathing remark, but says nothing. Steve watches as a look of confusion passes over the billionaire’s face and he slowly shuts his mouth, appearing contemplative. Steve has to resist the urge to request that JARVIS send the security footage to Phil, because Tony Stark speechless is something no one should go through life without seeing at least once.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Tony says, his tone making it sound as though he can’t quite believe what he’s saying.

The genius pushes his stool away from his workstation, swiveling towards a desk with three different computer monitors. He cracks his knuckles.

“Let’s fix that,” he says.

“Tony, I already tried looking in his file, it’s not there,” Steve cautions, rising from his seat to stand at the other man’s side.

“Pfft. Please. The file you looked at is basically public record. Anyone could get to that if they really wanted to,” Tony informs him, his fingers dancing across the keys like a mad typist. “Let’s have a look at the file S.H.I.E.L.D. _doesn’t_ want us to see.”

Steve bites at his lower lip, conflicted. On the one hand, they shouldn’t be doing this. They shouldn’t be hacking into the S.H.I.E.L.D. database just so he can find out when Phil’s birthday is. On the other hand, Phil is a stubborn jackass and Steve’s not going to miss the man’s birthday just because the agent refuses to say when it is.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Tony groans, glaring at the screen.

“What? What is it?” Steve questions, brought out of his thoughts by the complaint.

Tony points to the screen. “His file is filled with so many black lines and “redacted” marks that I can’t tell much other than the fact that at one point, his call sign was apparently ‘Cheese.’”

“Cheese?” Steve echoes.

“Ask him about it because I definitely need to hear the story behind this,” Tony says.

“Right, so… nothing on his date of birth, then,” Steve says, bringing them back to the topic at hand.

“No luck here,” Tony says, sounding about as disappointed as Steve feels, albeit likely for different reasons.

Steve frowns, watching Tony continue to scour the database. Well, that hadn’t gotten him anywhere. He supposes he’ll have to try asking around a little more. Someone’s bound to know, after all. Right?

“Just a suggestion, but have you tried fucking it out of him?” Tony asks.

“ _Tony_!” Steve growls.

The billionaire’s smile turns sly. “You _have_ , haven’t you? Don’t try to deny it, Stevie Boy, the tips of your ears are pink.”

“Go to hell,” Steve snorts, his hands reaching up to cover his ears all the same.

_“Sir, Agent Coulson is on the line,”_ JARVIS reports.

“Patch him through, J,” Tony says, still grinning up at Steve like the cat that swallowed the canary.

_“Mr. Stark, good afternoon,”_ Phil greets, his voice coming in over the speakers.

“Afternoon, Phil. What can I do for you?” Tony hums.

_“You can start by leaving my file alone. Hacking into the S.H.I.E.L.D. database is generally frowned upon and will not be tolerated. You can expect new security measures to be put in place shortly.”_

Tony grumbles.

_“That goes for you as well, Captain.”_

Steve colors and suddenly Tony is grinning again. “Looks like someone’s sleeping on the couch tonight.”

_“Hardly. I believe you asked him… now, how did you phrase it… if he’d tried fucking it out of me?”_

“How the fu—“

_“You’re not the only one who can hack. That, and JARVIS happens to like me. Have a good night, Mr. Stark.”_

Tony sputters as the call disconnects. “JARVIS, what the hell?”

_“He **was** insisting, sir.”_

“That doesn’t mean you go turncoat on me!”

Steve shakes his head and gets out of the lab while he can. Apparently, his search will continue. Perhaps when Pepper returns from her business trip she can help him out.

(Phil _does_ make him sleep on the couch that night, but there’s no way in hell he’s telling Tony that.)

* * *

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Pepper says with a smile as Steve pushes her chair in.

Steve smiles back, but with a slightly apologetic air. “I have to be honest, part of the reason I invited you out for lunch is because I need to ask you something.”

“I take no offense, believe me,” she answers, looking quite happy to have caught a break with his at this nice little outdoor eatery. The place their orders before she looks across the table, her expression relaxed and open, now that she’s been granted a brief respite from work. “So what’s on your mind, Steve?”

“It’s about Phil,” Steve says, placing his menu aside. “This probably seems like a silly question for me to ask, but… do you know when his birthday is?”

Pepper sips at her ice water. “I picked April 1st.”

Steve blinks slowly. “Excuse me?”

“Well, he wouldn’t tell me anything past what year he was born, so I picked a day for him,” Pepper explains. “It was that or not give him a gift every year, and I wasn’t about to choose that one.”

“He hasn’t told you either?” Steve asks.

Apparently he’s wearing his crestfallen feelings on his face, because Pepper reaches across the white table cloth to pat his hand consolingly.

“I honestly don’t think he’s told anyone,” she says as she pulls back to fold her napkin in her lap. “I’m sure you know as well as I do that Phil can be a little funny when it comes to personal information.”

“He certainly can,” Steve sighs as their food arrives. He drums his fingers along the table. “You said he told you what year?”

Pepper nods, swallowing her mouthful of food before answering. “In ’66.”

“That’s more than anyone else has been able to tell me, so far,” Steve admits, lifting half of his sandwich. “Do you think I’m just going to have to pick a day for him, too?”

“I think that if anyone’s going to find out when it is, it’s you,” Pepper answers. “He really loves you, you know.”

“He said that?” Steve questions.

It’s not something he holds against the agent, but it’s not often he hears the words “I love you” from the man. Of course, it can be frustrating; Phil is secretive by nature and is not wont to discuss his feelings as often as Steve would like. But he’s found that where Phil lacks in saying, he makes up by doing. It’s taken him some time to be able to read “I love you” from the brush of fingers along his arm, or in a kiss, or even in a look. Phil’s eyes often say more than his lips ever do.

Pepper nods. “And I figure if he’s comfortable enough telling me, then he must really mean it. Give it time and I’m sure he’ll say something.”

“I hope you’re right,” Steve says. “It just seems strange that he’s so adamant about no one knowing when it is.”

“When you find out, let me know,” Pepper says. “Five years after the fact I figured out I should have picked a different date than April Fool’s Day.”

“Why’s that?”

“Apparently S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t take April Fool’s Day lightly. My last gift was incinerated in the decontamination chamber.”

* * *

“Is there a specific reason you don’t want me knowing when your birthday is?” Steve asks, looking up from his book as Phil slips into bed beside him.

“Yes,” Phil says simply.

Steve waits for the agent to elaborate. When he doesn’t, the soldier lets out a soft sigh. He marks his place in his book, closes it and places it on the nightstand. Phil had been lying on his back, his eyes shut, but at Steve’s silence, he opens his eyes and glances upward.

“This is really bothering you, isn’t it?” Phil asks.

“Yes,” Steve replies. He frowns. “This isn’t an age thing, is it?”

Phil actually chuckles at that. “No, it isn’t. Besides, you already know how old I am and if the age difference between us doesn’t bother you, then it doesn’t bother me.”

“Of course it doesn’t bother me,” Steve reminds him. “What bothers me is that you’ll celebrate my birthday, but I don’t have a day to celebrate yours.”

“Not everyone celebrates their birthday,” Phil counters.

“You’re one of those people,” Steve surmises.

Phil rolls onto his side and props himself up on his elbow, still gazing up at the super soldier. “It’s nothing against you.”

“Are you sure about that?” Steve mutters.

“Why is it so important for you to know?”

“Why is it so important for you to hide it from everyone?”

Phil has no answer to that; he just gives Steve that vaguely apologetic look that says he isn’t budging. Steve doesn’t want to turn this into an argument, but his frustration is mounting with each of Phil’s evasive answers. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he can’t force the man to tell him what he wants to know.

“Look, if you don’t want to celebrate it, fine. If it’s not important to you, that’s fine, too. But it’s important to me. _You’re_ important to me,” he says, changing his approach. “I want to know because of that. You know when my birthday is—“

“Everyone knows when your birthday is.”

“Yeah, I know. Okay, so you know when my birthday is and you celebrate it with me. Can you kind of see why it would be frustrating for me to be unable to do the same with you?” Steve asks.

Phil seems to contemplate that, at least.

“Let me think about it,” Phil says at length.

Steve figures it’s progress, if nothing else.

* * *

It’s hard not to have a good time with Thor around. The man is such a boisterous, uplifting spirit that he seems to elevate the mood of any room he walks in. If you’re one of the few who can tease a smile out of Maria Hill, well, then you really must be some kind of special. Steve appreciates Thor as a good sparring partner, as a good friend and as a valued teammate. More-so, he finds he appreciates the fact that the god is extremely fond of Phil—following the repair of the Bifrost, Thor had been all-but glued to the agent’s side during his recovery.

“I have heard you seek information on the Son of Coul,” Thor remarks as they take a breather.

Steve takes a gulp of water, swishing it around his mouth before swallowing. “Who told you?”

“Our friend Stark has a very large mouth,” Thor informs him with a chuckle. “There is no evidence to be found of the Son of Coul’s birth in Midgard’s records, as I have come to understand it.”

“No, there doesn’t seem to be,” Steve agrees. “Tony said he can’t even find a birth certificate.”

Thor gives a thoughtful hum, looking across the gym. “To go to such great lengths to conceal it… perhaps it is something best left unknown.”

“I’m starting to wonder if it is,” Steve says, frowning down at his water bottle. “I really have no way of knowing just why he’s so adamant about keeping it a secret. Part of me wonders if there’s something about it he doesn’t like beyond just simply not being the kind of guy who celebrates his birthday.”

“Then that is what I would choose as a starting point,” Thor advises him. “A straight path is not always the quickest way to reach one’s destination.”

“So since the road’s blocked, I’ll have to go around,” Steve says, even as he weighs his options in his mind.

“Is your own celebration not fast approaching?” Thor questions.

“Don’t remind me,” Steve says with a laugh, rising from where he’d been sitting.

Thor gives him a questioning look.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate what everyone does. I do. But my birthday being what it is, you can see why having a nice, quiet celebration at home is out of the question, if not impossible,” Steve explains, tugging on the towel wrapped around his neck.

“Yes, I do see the problem,” Thor hums. “I do enjoy the fireworks, however.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of a sucker for fireworks myself,” Steve admits, grinning.

They begin walking towards the showers, their conversation drifting to other things. Steve pays Thor no mind as the Asgardian wastes no time in divesting himself of his clothing. Thor’s never been particularly modest in this area. Steve remembers the first time they’d gone to the communal showers and everyone had awkwardly disrobed, making sure to avoid his line of sight, with the exception of Thor. Steve had testily needed to remind them that he’d been in the military and there wasn’t anything they had that he hadn’t seen before.

The hot spray of the shower feels good after a long work out and he takes a moment to lean into it, bracing his hands against the tiles, which are already slick with perspiration. He watches the water swirl down the drain beneath him and wonders if Thor just might be on to something. Has he been pushing in a direction that he just shouldn’t be pushing in? The thought makes him feel a little guilty that he’s been so insistent about it. Phil had said himself that there’s a reason he isn’t telling Steve.

“It doesn’t do to dwell on such matters,” Thor says as they towel dry.

“What?” Steve questions, toweling off his hair, the end result leaving it sticking up in all different directions.

“Your brooding aura is very difficult to ignore,” Thor informs him with a broad grin. He gives the super soldier an amiable clap on the back. “If the Son of Coul truly did not wish for you to progress further in your search, he would have halted you himself. As he did not, I believe you need only give him your patience in return for his trust.”

“Are you two finished with your naked shower bonding? Because we’re putting a movie on.”

Steve looks over his shoulder to find Tony leaning against the doorframe, ignoring them in favor of typing away at something on his StarkPhone. Thor doesn’t appear phased by Tony’s jab, merely watches him curiously.

“By the way, I’m sending a picture of your wet, naked ass to Phil to show him what he’s missing. If I can just crop Thor’s monster dong out of the shot… actually… you know what, I’m leaving it. Aaaaaaaand send!” Tony dictates.

Steve decides to count his blessings considering at least Tony hadn’t tweeted it instead. They all remember how that went down last time…

* * *

“I asked him how old he was every day for six months,” Clint tells him, mashing a button on his controller furiously.

“Obviously that didn’t work out,” Steve says. He glances sidelong at the archer before returning his gaze to the screen, unwilling to forfeit his newfound lead.

“Nope,” Clint answers. “I knew he wouldn’t lie to me, so I asked him how old he was every day, figuring that eventually he’d have to say forty-two instead of forty-one and I’d be able to figure out which day it was based on that.”

“Tedious, but a good strategy,” Steve says with an appreciative nod. “So, what happened? Got bored?”

“Nah. Another handler borrowed me for a mission, it went south and I wound up stuck in some cramped little dungeon cell for a month,” Clint replies.

“I’m sorry.”

Clint shrugs. “Turned out alright, in the end. Phil found me. I’m glad I was conscious enough to see him take out five armed guards with a collapsible baton. But you know, they extracted me, got me to a hospital, patched me up. But by the time I was lucid enough to ask, I’d already missed a month and a half of asking him, during which his answer of forty-one had changed to forty-two. But I can say that I _think_ he was born in either June or July.”

Steve’s eyes have been on Clint for the duration of his explanation. It had been delivered matter-of-factly, as though being captured and tortured for a month were no big deal. Then again, it had been, what, five years ago? Perhaps time meant that it _wasn’t_ a big deal for him to talk about anymore. Steve looks up suddenly in surprise at the screen, taken abruptly by from his thoughts.

“Wait a minute, did you just blue shell me?” he demands.

“Hey, you were the guy too busy shedding a sympathetic tear for me to notice his lead was in jeopardy,” Clint snorts with a cheeky grin.

“You always play dirty,” Steve scowls.

“There’s no friendship in Mario Kart, Cap. We’ve been over this,” Clint explains.

Steve knows it’s likely better to just accept defeat now, but that’s never been his style. Even as he fights tooth and nail to reclaim his lead, he knows his distracting thoughts are doing him no favors. So far, he’s collected two valuable pieces to the puzzle. He knows that Phil was born in 1966 and he now knows that he was born in either June or July. He knows the agent doesn’t enjoy celebrating his birthday, but is unsure why at the moment.

In the end, he doesn’t win the game, but he does come in at a close second.

“Not bad for having your head in the clouds for most of it,” Clint congratulates him.

“Think I’ve improved since I started?” Steve asks with a grin.

Clint climbs over the back of the sofa, nearly tripping as he has a good laugh at the soldier’s expense. He returns with two sodas, offering one to Steve as he flops back into his seat.

“Anything is an improvement over that,” Clint says. He takes a long swig from the glass bottle in his hand, one arm slung over the back of the sofa as he watches the title screen on the television in a manner that suggests he isn’t really paying it much attention. “You’re really pushing hard on this one, aren’t you?”

Steve shrugs a shoulder. “It’s important to me.”

Clint nods. “Good.”

It’s the small things like this, the almost unnoticeable ways in which Clint watches out for his handler that always impresses Steve. If there’s one thing he’s learned in his time awake, it’s that the bulk of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s agents have a terrible knack for watching out for those closest to them in a way which attempts to make it appear as though they aren’t. He sees it with Clint and Natasha, with Phil and Jasper and Maria and Fury. It’s like some big competition as to see who can be the most aloof in their care.

“You can try asking Nat, but I don’t think she knows,” Clint informs him.

“If she hasn’t told you then she probably doesn’t,” Steve says.

“You never know with her,” Clint says. “We tell each other a lot of things. But not everything. If she found out and Phil asked her not to tell or if she just doesn’t think it’s anything any of us need to know, she won’t say anything.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Steve says.

* * *

Steve leans against the doorway separating the bathroom and bedroom as he brushes his teeth. Phil is busy replying to emails that are likely being sent to him even at this hour of the night. He thinks over what Thor and Clint have each said to him and decides that he and the agent need to have another talk. He ducks back into the bathroom, spits, rinses and douses the light before wandering over to the bed and taking a seat on the side.

Phil doesn’t look up from his activity, but takes his left hand away from the keys to relocate it to Steve’s thigh. Steve stifles a smile at the action; in private, Phil allows himself to be physically demonstrative in ways that he refuses to be in public. They’re both the utmost professionals at work, conducting themselves in such a manner that most people would never guess they were in a relationship, but at home… that’s different. He remembers being surprised at how much Phil seems to crave touch, which is just fine by him, as they can hardly keep their hands off one another. The sex is great, but sometimes he thinks he almost enjoys the little things like this that take up the bulk of their time even more.

“Can we talk?” Steve asks.

Phil looks at that, the glare from the computer screen reflecting off his glasses. He closes the laptop and sets it aside, giving Steve the signal that he has the floor.

“I’ve been talking to some of the others,” Steve begins.

“So I hear,” Phil says.

“It didn’t occur to me to ask before,” Steve continues, choosing to ignore the slight jab. “But after talking with some of them, I think it’s better that I do. Does it make you uncomfortable that I’m trying to figure out when your birthday is?”

Phil tilts his head slightly, as though he’s considering how he should answer. “At first, yes, it did make me uncomfortable.”

Steve sighs at that. “Why didn’t you ask me to stop?”

“Because you didn’t stop,” Phil answers.

“I would have, if you’d asked,” Steve tells him.

“That’s not exactly what I meant. I meant that you kept trying,” Phil explains. “You haven’t stopped trying. That lead me to reconsider my feelings on the matter. I’m not going to tell you yet, but if you find out on your own, I’ll be okay with it.”

Steve finds himself both relieved and confused by that answer. Phil doesn’t want to tell him, but he’s alright with him knowing? He’s getting mixed signals.

“Can you tell me why you’re so adamant about no one knowing it? Tony couldn’t even find your birth certificate,” Steve says.

He feels Phil’s hand twitch on his thigh.

“For me, it’s never been a day worth celebrating,” he says simply.

“But _why_?” Steve wants to know.

Phil shakes his head. “I’d prefer not to say. Please.”

His tone gives Steve pause. He rests his hand on his partner’s. “I’m pushing you again.”

“It’s understandable,” Phil says. “I know it’s frustrating for you.”

The agent’s mouth twists into a frown as he looks down at their hands. He turns his hand palm up and lets Steve lace their fingers together, watches the way their hands fit together while he thinks. At last, he reaches up with his free hand and pulls his glasses away, rubbing at tired eyes before meeting Steve’s gaze.

“It’s not a happy day for me, for various reasons. Around when I was eighteen, I gave up on it. It just wasn’t something worth celebrating, and trying to celebrate was never enough to forget about the things I hate about it,” Phil says slowly. “Without knowing the reasons why, I suppose it probably just seems ridiculous that I would go to such lengths to keep it concealed. But I refuse to tell anyone what those reasons are for the simple fact that I don’t want to be pitied. I don’t want sympathy. And I don’t trust people to know when it is and let me be regardless.”

It worries Steve, to hear the other man talk about it in such a way, but it also just piques his curiosity even further. What could have possibly happened that would lead him to detest it this much? Phil isn’t obligated to tell him. And if Phil wants him to leave it alone, then he’ll leave it alone. Part of him wishes Phil trusted him enough to feel comfortable talking about it. Another part of him is afraid to know, afraid of learning something that’s obviously hurt Phil that he can’t fix. He realizes he’s been frowning at the laptop, lost in thought, when he feels a squeeze to his hand. He looks up.

“You’re worrying. I’m fine,” Phil says with a soft smile. “The things that happened, happened, and I’ve come to terms with them. I’m not traumatized or anything.”

Steve’s not really sure what to say. Phil squeezes his hand again.

“Come on, you know I’m not some delicate flower,” Phil snorts.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Steve says, a grin working its way back to his face. “I know you can take a pounding, in more ways than one.”

Phil raises a suggestive eyebrow and Steve swears his face must be red to the roots of his hair. He laughs, shoving the shorter man.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“True. But we could make it mean that.”

“Sure you don’t have any important emails you should be responding to?”

He figures that, what with the way Phil kisses him, the answer’s likely ‘no.’

* * *

“No.”

Steve hasn’t even opened his mouth before Fury slams the door shut in his face.

Upon further reflection, Fury had been a bad idea to begin with.

* * *

Steve thinks that perhaps now is a bad time. Watching Jasper and Maria disagree over what color duvet they should have in the bedroom of their new home, he’s almost certain of it. But every time he’s tried to leave, Maria just gives him _that look_ and he finds himself sitting back down. It’s the look that Peggy used to give him, that one which has him responding like one of Pavlov’s dogs. The simple truth is that he’s got more brains than to challenge a woman who’s got more grit than a dozen people combined who will not hesitate to shoot you if she feels it’s warranted. Watching Maria argue with Jasper, he’s not going to test just where her threshold for warranted gunshots lies.

Still, part of him gets a kick out of it. Apparently, Jasper had asked Maria out years back and she had flat-out turned him down, as she’d turned down all of her suitors at the time. Since then, there had always been that point of contention between them. It was always a game, apparently, one that abruptly ended with the Battle of New York and Phil’s death. Steve will never know the intimate details of what happened, but he knows that those events had shaken them both up enough to force their hands. Of course, like he and Phil, the two of them had been on a probationary period. S.H.I.E.L.D. takes its fraternization policy very seriously and it’s only after this probationary period and Fury’s consent that you get the all clear. The probationary period is vital, meant to determine if both parties can remain neutral and unbiased in a situation where their partner may be compromised.

Though, that had been some time ago. Jasper and Maria had been living together for some time, but had just made the serious commitment of purchasing a home. Now, Steve finds himself quietly eating frozen yogurt watching as theirs steadily melts since they can’t reach an agreement.

“Okay, okay,” Maria sighs at last, fingers pressed to her temples. “We’ll save the bedroom for last. At least we were able to decide on the living room and the bathroom.”

Steve has the urge to thank God, but holds his tongue.

“I still think that blue one was best. Steve agreed with me,” Jasper says, pulling his frozen yogurt toward himself.

“I don’t think my opinion really matters here,” Steve is quick to say.

Maria taps her spoon on the side of her dish, looking contemplatively between the two of them. She shrugs one shoulder. “We’ll decide on this later.”

“So no luck figuring out Phil’s birthday, huh?” Jasper prods, changing topic.

“I’ve gotten a few clues, but no actual answer and no clue as to why he doesn’t want anyone to know,” Steve says, prodding the remains of his dessert. “But I think it may be that something happened to him. Something he’s not comfortable telling me that still upsets him.”

Jasper looks from Steve to Maria and back, his gaze questioning. Immediately the soldier knows the agent knows something, but is wondering whether or not he should come out with it. Steve squares his shoulders, drawing himself up in his seat as he stares Jasper down. He is by no means attempting to threaten the man, but he’s not willing to let Jasper decide he should keep his mouth shut. Maria leans back in her seat, looking sidelong at her partner. It’s clear he can feel the heat of both their gazes even as he focuses his attention on the beads of sweat rolling down the side of his Styrofoam dish.

“You can’t tell him I told you this,” Jasper says in an undertone.

“Jasper,” Maria says warningly.

“He only told me because I got shot and I was bleeding out and he needed me to stay awake,” Jasper says hurriedly. “I was a kid and I was scared and it helped. He’s not exactly the kind of guy who says much about himself; it was true back then and it’s true now.”

Steve says nothing, just looks to the agent expectantly. Maria mirrors his expression, clearly having no idea what it is they’re about to be told.

“I don’t know when his birthday is, but I know he lost a brother on it,” Jasper says. “He didn’t give me any context, just said that he’d been a kid even younger than I was at the time and he didn’t know what to do with a gunshot wound then, but that he did now. I think he talked more about his brother than himself, really. But it was something and it was just intriguing enough to distract me.”

“I didn’t even know he had a brother,” Steve says, eyebrows raised.

“Neither did I,” Maria says. “But it certainly helps explain a thing or two.”

“And if you tell him I told you, don’t be surprised if I show up with another bullet hole in me,” Jasper declares. “I’m only telling you because I figure you deserve to know at least as much as I do.”

He leans in and gives Maria a quick peck on the cheek.

“And _you_ get preferential treatment.”

Maria rolls her eyes, but it’s hard to miss the way she struggles not to smile. When Steve offers to clear the table, he pretends not to see them kiss when he isn’t looking and makes a mental note to have them over for dinner in the near future.

* * *

“And you thought he’d have spilled his innermost secrets to me?” Bruce asks with an amused smile, stirring honey into his tea.

“People have a tendency to,” Steve says with a shrug.

“Mmm. I really have to do something about that,” Bruce notes. “No one seems to believe me when I say I’m not that kind of doctor.”

“So you’re as clueless as I am, I take it,” Steve asks.

“That and then some,” Bruce informs him. He leans forward against the counter, steepling his fingers around his steaming mug. “Phil and I talk, but it’s never about him. Usually I’m the one doing the talking.”

“He does have that effect on people,” Steve agrees. It’s not hard to be a master interrogator when people are willing to spill their guts to you of their own volition. The soldier shakes his head with a sigh. “I figured I had to ask you anyway.”

Bruce nods understandingly. The doctor shifts on his feet, sipping his tea before continuing, his tone delicate.

“Did you, uh, try asking Agent K?”

Steve bites back a groan. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.”

“It looks like it just might,” Bruce says.

“I’ll be sleeping on the couch for a month if he finds out,” Steve reasons.

“Then don’t let him find out.”

“Easier said than done,” Steve snorts.

Bruce chuckles warmly, still sipping his tea. “Speaking of birthdays, any idea what you’d like for yours? It’s only a two weeks away.”

“I don’t think turning a national holiday into a small, quiet celebration is possible when you’re friends with Tony Stark,” Steve says.

“Best to save your birthday wish for something else, I think.”

* * *

“You’re a difficult man to get ahold of, Agent K,” Steve states as a man in a plain black suit and tie slides into the open seat beside him on the park bench.

“Get to the point, Captain,” Kay states plainly.

Steve continues to stare out across the pond. It kills him that he’s given in and come to this man, of all people. But other than Natasha, who is not due back from a mission until next week, this is his last, best bet. But Phil absolutely cannot know they’ve met.

When they had first run into Agent K and his partner, Agent J, Steve had assumed, like the others, that Kay was using the term ‘son’ in the same way that Steve himself sometimes did. It wasn’t until Phil had addressed Kay as ‘Dad’ that things got a little awkward. Since then, Steve had learned that the relationship between the two could be described as rocky at best. Phil, by his own admission, still harbored some resentment for the fact that Kay had left him as a child to work for MIB. Steve can hardly blame him. He knows Kay has been trying to repair that relationship, but it’s slow going. Which is why Steve knows he’s got to walk on egg shells with this meeting if he wants things to keep running smoothly.

“I’ve been trying to find out when Phil’s birthday is. The thing is, he isn’t telling, no one knows, and there’s no record of him ever even being born,” Steve says. “You’re my last shot at getting an answer.”

“Now, why is it so important for you to know?” Kay asks.

“Because when you feel about someone the way I feel about Phil, you want to know everything you can about them. That includes the things that have hurt them,” Steve says without hesitation. “I know every one of the scars on his body and nearly every story that goes with them. But there are scars I can’t see and this is one of them. It’s not about forcing him to celebrate it, or about pity or sympathy. It’s about finding a way to try to heal a wound that I think is still open.”

He finally turns his head to look at Kay.

“And I dare you to say that’s wrong.”

“Alright, sport, don’t get your feathers in a bunch,” Kay says.

He reaches up and removes his sunglasses, looking to Steve and giving him a once over before returning his gaze to the pond. Steve doesn’t miss the way the agent’s gaze lingers on the pair of ducks herding their tiny flock of ducklings towards the water.

“Phil’s mother and I never married. We had a few on and off years together and she gave me two sons: Phil and his twin brother, Peter. Well, Marianne left not long after the boys had turned two. She was Irish Catholic; I knew she didn’t believe in abortion but we never got around to talking about whether or not she wanted children. I always had, so when she showed up on my doorstep, suitcase in hand and four months along, I wasn’t about to turn her away,” Kay explains. “She tried, I’ve got to give her that. But she just didn’t want children, couldn’t handle them. So she left.”

The ducklings follow the mama duck into the pond while the papa remains behind, making sure each of them makes their way safely into the water.

“I didn’t have the means to raise two twin boys on my own and no family to rely on. I was offered a job, the last job I’d ever have, and for a few years I was allowed to keep my sons. But the time came when I had to give them up,” Kay continues. “I could continue to send money to support them, but they had to be neuralyzed to forget who I was. We tried Peter first, but it went wrong. He wound up in a coma for three weeks and after seeing that, I knew I couldn’t put Phil through the same. So I faked it. Peter was never quite the same after and the boys were bounced around foster homes for years. Peter grew more troubled over the years, got involved in some bad business. It came to a head the night they turned eighteen; Peter got involved in a turf war between gangs, was shot and bled out beneath Phil’s hands.”

The ducklings make their way across the pond, nestled safely between their parents.

“There are three key events in that story with a common theme,” Kay says. “They have one more thing in common: though years apart, they all occurred on the same day.”

For a moment, Steve is struck dumb. It seems too strange, too outlandish that all these things, that each of these events had occurred on Phil’s birthday. Suddenly it becomes alarmingly clear why Phil wouldn’t want to celebrate it; it’s a reminder of a mother who never wanted you, a father who left you and a brother you couldn’t save. It’s plain to see that the events weigh nearly as heavily on Kay as they do on his son and gives their relationship an even more complicated appearance.

“Thank you, sir, for telling me,” Steve says at length, when the ducks are no longer within sight.

“I figure it’s best you knew,” Kay answers. “Phil’s a little too much like me at times, much as he’d hate to hear me say it. He keeps too damn much to himself.”

“He’s getting better,” Steve says. “With talking.”

Kay gives him an appraising look. “When he said you were different, I admit I thought it was mostly the superhero thing. Glad to see that I was wrong.”

Steve dips his head in acknowledgement and rises when he sees the agent do so.

“I appreciate everything you’ve been able to tell me, but you never said _when_ his birthday is,” Steve points out.

“Sorry, Captain,” Kay says, replacing his sunglasses. “You’re going to have to figure that one out on your own.”

Steve doesn’t try to stop him or wrestle more information out of him. He’s heard enough. Instead, he watches the man go, and decides that if Kay was willing to trust him with the information given, then Steve would respect that trust. Phil wasn’t going to know.

* * *

“Just so you know, I don’t know when his birthday is.”

Steve’s head lolls to the side. He attempts to focus on Natasha as she makes quick work of the restraints keeping him tied to the cold metal slab, and it takes him longer to do so than he’d like. He squints up at her through a haze of pain and drugs and delirium.

“D’you think now’s’a good time’a be talkin’ ‘bout this,” he slurs.

“Probably not,” she admits, helping him sit up. “But it’s better to keep you distracted.”

He groans at being upright, feeling pain from his head to his toes. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here. He’s lost count. But he knows they’ve been testing his body’s accelerated healing, a process that has been nothing short of torture. Whatever they’ve pumped his veins full of has left him as weak as a newborn foal, unable to get his legs beneath him, but still able to feel every laceration, every contusion, every broken bone.

“I’m gonna need you to work with me here, Cap,” Natasha says, bearing most of his weight as his feet touch the ground.

He nods, which turns out to be a bad idea as the room tilts violently. Natasha does her best to accommodate his failing attempts to stay upright. He hears more voices and tries to focus on the people approaching them. It’s only as they stop right in front of him that he can see it’s the Avengers and the agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Phil.”

He hears the name leave his lips, quick, frightened and louder than he’d intended. The man is standing before him, his usual suit soaked liberally with red. There’s some running down the side of his face, staining his shirt cuffs and front, his hands... The sight gets Steve’s heart pumping with alarm, his eyes unable to see anything else but the blood.

“It’s not mine.”

The words emerge in Phil’s familiarly mild voice, but they’re laced with something dangerous. That something that they rarely hear, rarely witness, but are always aware of; that Phil Coulson is a calm man on the brink of great violence. Taking in Steve’s current condition, he can see the agent’s anger flare, his jaw twitching and his fists clenching as he attempts to maintain that calm. But as he meets Steve’s eyes, his anger is softened by concern and he steps forward to help Natasha support the wounded soldier.

“Got him?” Tony asks, his voice tinny as it’s emitted from his suit.

“Got him,” both Natasha and Phil affirm.

He tries to make it the whole way, he really does. He mumbles apologies as he falters time and again, only to receive reassurances from both Natasha and Phil that apology isn’t necessary. But with every step, the grey on the edges of his vision creeps steadily towards the center until all he sees is grey, then black, and he knows nothing at all.

* * *

“Looks like you’ll be getting that quiet birthday after all.”

Steve rouses at the soft voice accompanied by fingers threading gently through his hair. He remembers being cold and in pain, but in its place now is that pleasant warmth that comes with awakening from slumber. He pries his eyes open, letting them adjust to the light. Immediately he knows he’s in the hospital, but with Phil seated at the edge of his bed, that doesn’t bother him as much as it usually would.

“Glad to see you with your eyes open,” Phil says, dipping to press a kiss to his forehead. “Happy Birthday.”

Steve clears his throat.

“That time already?” he croaks.

“Mmmhmm. You’ll be able to see the fireworks from your window tonight, if you’re up to it,” Phil assures him. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Tired,” Steve reports after considering the question. “Better than I remember feeling last.”

“I should hope,” Phil says. “You’ve been out for five days.”

Steve groans at that. Well, it could certainly be worse. He feels better as the day wears on, growing more alert and feeling more like himself again. The others visit, but don’t stay long, not wanting to wear him out, and while Steve’s glad for their concern, he’s gladder to have time alone with Phil. The hospital bed isn’t made for two, but they make it work, shifting until Steve’s head is pillowed on the agent’s chest, allowing him the perfect view as the fireworks start outside his window.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner,” Phil says.

“You found me. That’s what matters,” Steve assures him.

“I just wish it had been sooner,” Phil says.

Steve knows he’s angry at himself, but he also knows that if it had been possible to find him sooner, Phil would have managed it.

“Was worth it for the look on the agents’ faces when they got a look at you,” Steve jokes. “Scared me half to death, too.”

He hears Phil clear his throat, the noise sounding uncomfortable. “I lost my temper.”

Steve thinks it’s a little more than that, but he hasn’t got the energy to dispute the point. Instead, he focuses on the colorful display outside and the sound of the agent’s heartbeat beneath his left ear. Silence reigns for a time as they simply lie together, watching the fireworks, both grateful they get to watch them at all. It’s as Steve is beginning to nod off again that he hears Phil speak.

“I was thinking,” the agent says quietly, “that after they discharge you, we can take you home and celebrate your birthday properly. And… perhaps mine with it.”

Steve jerks awake.

“Your birthday?” he questions.

“12:01 a.m. on July 5th, 1966,” Phil says with a faint smile.

Steve can’t help the sudden laughter that bubbles up from is chest. “You just missed… we almost have the same day.”

“You have no idea how much I resented that as a child,” Phil chuckles. “I once saved up an entire jar of pennies to bribe them to change my birth certificate to say I’d been born at 11:59 instead.”

Steve smiles. It seems like he’s been trying to figure this out for months and now… He pauses, his thoughts catching up to him. That date has another meaning to him. It has very important meaning to him, one that he has to think Phil must’ve realized.

“That’s the day you woke up,” he says. “After Loki. Your coma. That’s when you came out of it.”

Phil offers him half-smile. “Strange, isn’t it?”

Right then he knows that Phil knows he’d spoken to Kay. Because it’s strange that all these events in Phil’s life should just happen to fall on his birthday. It’s a strange, strange star this man was born under, Steve decides.

“I’m not angry,” Phil clarifies. “I know you spoke to my father. Thank you.”

“For what?” Steve wants to know.

“For making me reconsider what that day means to me,” Phil answers. “For caring enough to keep trying.”

“I didn’t understand how that day could bother you so much until I spoke to Kay,” Steve says. “There’s one thing I still don’t quite understand… why get rid of your birth certificate?”

“I have nephews,” Phil says. He shifts, bringing his hand up to run through Steve’s hair once more. “When my brother was seventeen, he got a girl pregnant. He was dead before the children were ever born. Twin boys. They were given up for adoption, went to a good home. They grew up and managed to track me down. We’ve kept in contact over the years. They’ve got children of their own, now. But soon after they found me it occurred to me that if they could find me, then others could. Others could find them, who they were, use them against me… I didn’t want that for them. It’s dangerous enough indulging in the contact we have. Erasing the records was just the logical thing to do.”

“Does Kay know? That he has grandkids? Great-grandkids, even?” Steve asks.

“He knows. We try to minimize our involvement in their lives,” Phil says. “Getting too close risks roping them into all this. Gods and aliens and spy games, that’s not for them.”

Steve hums in agreement. It feels odd to have it all presented to him in such a neat little package. But Phil told him, willingly, had trusted him with the information. And that’s the greatest part of it. That, and Phil’s willing to let him in, willing to let Steve celebrate the day even if Phil himself doesn’t want to remember it. But perhaps it’s a different sort of birthday—both the day Phil came into the world and the day he came back to it.

“I’d like that,” Steve says suddenly. “Celebrating them together. At home. Can we?”

“I suggested it for a reason,” Phil tells him.

“What changed your mind, in the end?” Steve asks.

“You did,” Phil says simply.

Steve patiently counts down the hours, forcing himself to stay awake for it. He’s nearly asleep by the time the clock reads 12:01 so that his declaration of “Happy Birthday, Phil” comes out more mumbled that he would have liked. But with the way Phil holds him close, kisses the top of his head and thanks him in a slightly shaky voice, he thinks it will probably do.


End file.
